


No Promises

by PixieGiant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixieGiant/pseuds/PixieGiant
Summary: Frankie is a hunter and proves the job is a little tougher when you’re not a Winchester.





	1. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hunts alone.

Covered in vamp blood……… _again._  


        Beheading was the only way to make sure they died, so the shit got _everywhere_.  And it was an unnatural fluid; black, clotted, and smelling of pestilence rather than the metallic odor of human blood.  She removed the dust mask which kept her safe from infection and dropped it into the sink.  The hard right she had eaten from one of them was causing her jaw to scream each time she moved it.  

    She looked at her reflection in the mirror and sighed when she noticed a small crack in the corner.  With the vamps keeping her busy, she had no time to keep up the house.  Every day she passed by the two inch layer of dust on everything, averted her eyes from the withering garden in the back, and ignored that insufferable creak from the hinges whenever she walked out the front door.  She would hire help, but was afraid of what they might find.  The town already painted her a devil-worshiper and she had at least seven books in her front room to give them proof.

    Her shoulder cried out, as she reached for the shower’s faucet and she felt the pain in her knuckles when she tested the water.  She had been hunting since she was fifteen and here she was over twenty years later, feeling every single year.  “You’re too old for this, Frankie."

    When she was younger, she would’ve been relieved to come home in one piece, but lately she asked herself the same thing every time she left the house:  _What if I just stopped fighting and let them take me?_  And the answer was always the same:  _But then who would fight the monsters and save the idiots who refuse to believe they exist?_  


        And then there’s Jenny......

        “Fuck.”

        She sucked air in through her teeth as the hot water hit her body.  She stood under the water for only a moment, before the fatigue took her and she finally wept.


	2. Whiskey Wishes and Popcorn Dreams.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie ends up at the local dive bar, owned by a close friend.

 

      “That’s three you owe me.” 

       _Willy’s again._

      After her father’s disappearance, the owner Jack had let her have the run of the place and had become something of a second father to her. Nestled between the Starlight Motel and the all nude stripper joint, Willy’s was a pit of a place: filled with some weary travelers, but mostly bikers.

     One of them threw his cue on the table. “You sharked me, bitch.”

     “How exactly?” She absentmindedly touched her jaw. The whiskey was helping with the sting, but only cut it down to a dull throb. “You just watched me take two from your friends.”

     “Whatever.” The biker scoffed. “I’m not paying.”

     “Look at that ink, Doc.” One of the other men pointed at her from the other side of the table. “I’d bet she’s a devil worshiper.”

     Doc looked at the tattoos she had on her arms. “Is that right?”

     “Worse than that!” Old Lady Mason’s voice rattled from a table not too far away.  _Old Lady Mason_  was just a nickname, since the woman looked like she was seventy, but couldn’t be more than forty-five. Frankie was about eighty percent sure Mason was born in this bar. “She’s a witch! Her and her mother both.” Mason narrowed her eyes. “Devil’s whores.”

     “Wonderful.” She breathed and then turned back to Doc. “Look, it doesn’t take a pact with the devil to make you suck at pool. Pay up.”

     “I am a Son of Christ!” Doc shouted, causing Frankie to roll her eyes. “I do not fear you, demon whore!”

     Doc threw a punch which Frankie promptly caught; her eyes wide. “What the fuck?”

     Doc stammered, but she didn’t care. One twist of her hand and his wrist was broken. Still holding on to his hand, she hit him with a solid right and he began to fall backward.  She grabbed the front of his jacket, before he could, pulled his wallet from his back pocket and then pushed him down. He hit the ground with an awkward roll, clutching his hand.

     “Anyone else want to argue about how much they owe me?” Those who owed quickly threw their money onto the table, while she took what the biker owed her from his wallet and threw the wallet at him when she was finished.  “Hey!”  She called after his friends and pointed to Doc. “Don’t forget your trash.” They rushed over, picked up their friend and left as quickly as they could.

     Pouring her a whiskey, Jack stared at her cold as she walked over. “What?”

     “Frankie.” He shook his head.

     “At least I didn’t break anything this time.”

     “You countin' that guy’s wrist?” Frankie shrugged and Jack left her be. She took a small swig from the tumbler and could still hear the old lady talking about her mother. _Devil’s whores_ , the words echoed, as Frankie ran a hand over the inside of her forearm.

     “They are interesting.” He was tall; she guessed six foot four. His shaggy brown hair kept well in place on the sides and his eyes were kind.  He motioned for the bartender. “Especially the ones on your back.”

     “If you say so.” 

     He ordered two beers. “Mind if I ask where you got them?”

     “Local place.” She moved the tumbler in a slow circle. “Picked them off the wall.”

     “Really?” He placed a ten on the bar, his smirk was telling.

     “Number four and number twelve.” She downed the rest of the whiskey and without her asking, Jack poured her another. “Thanks.” Jack nodded and gave a small look to the man standing next to her before he walked away.

     The man tipped one of the bottles toward her. “Sorry to bother you.”

     She raised a hand halfway to show him it was okay and watched him walk to the table where his friend was waiting. Clean-cut and a few inches shorter, the friend glanced over at her, just as the phone vibrated in her pocket.

_Joey_.

     The owner of the local diner and the only person Frankie trusted. They had attended the same high school, before Frankie dropped out at sixteen. A year later, Joey and his sister Nancy had come home from a movie to find their parents brutally murdered; their throats ripped out. Just like the rest of town, Joey had heard the rumors about Frankie’s father and came to the house a week later looking for help:

    “Vampires.”

    “What the fuck, Frankie? I came here hoping you would help me—“

    “It’s true.” She had pumped one of them full of dead man’s blood earlier and had her tied up in the bunker downstairs. “Do you trust me?”

     “Of course I do, but—“

     “C’mon.” She shook her head, remembering she had made him look away, as she opened the bunker door.  _You were about to show him a vampire, but couldn’t tell him you were a witch._  She had ran a hand over the door to clear the wards she had put in place after her father had disappeared.

     “What is this place?” She had kept quiet, while walking him over to the girl chained to the chair. “Frankie, what’s going on?”

      The girl had heard his voice and raised her head. She hadn’t been more than fourteen when she was sired. “Help me! This girl is crazy! She kidnapped me from my home and tied me up down here.” The girl had began to cry.

      Frankie had backhanded her hard across the face. “Shut up.”

     “Frankie!”

     “Watch.” She had pulled out her knife to cut the tip of her own finger, grabbed the girl’s hair, and pulled her head back. Holding it high above the girl’s mouth, Frankie had squeezed her finger, so the blood dripped onto the girl’s lips. 

     In a matter of seconds, the girl’s fangs had come out, causing Joey to leap back.  “Jesus!”

     The girl had hissed and fought against the chains, stopping after a few minutes.  She had inhaled deeply through her nose, as she raised her head, giggling. “Poor Mommy and Daddy.”

     “What did you say?” Joey’s face had turned cold. “Did you kill my parents?”

     The girl had giggled again. “No, but I did taste them.” She had licked her lips. “Mommy was especially sweet.”

     “Do you believe me now?” Frankie had asked and Joey could only nod. She had handed him a machete off of a table nearby. “Her head has to come off. It’s the only way she’ll die.”

     She remembered it being a swift cut for his first.  _Must’ve been all those years on the farm_ , she had thought. “I will never forgive myself for going to that movie.”

     “I know this won’t bring them back—”

     “No,” his voice had been so small, “but it sure as hell felt good.”

     She looked at the text message:  _Swing by the diner tomorrow. Have something for you_.

     She finished her drink, left Jack a fifty and walked towards the door. The early morning chill had rolled in and she felt the goosebumps rise on her arms. She started for her car, but heard something in the alleyway next to the bar. She pulled her pant leg up and pushed it behind her boot. Glancing down she smiled at Betty, crept next to the side of the dumpster and peered around it.  _Vamps_.

     “Who is making all of these fuckers?” She whispered to herself. She counted three; one feeding while the other two watched. She was still feeling the five vamps from earlier, but couldn’t just walk away now. She took a deep breath and pulled a dust mask out of her pocket and put it on. Walking down the alleyway, she looked around for any others that she hadn’t counted.

     The one on the ground stopped feeding and stood up.  “I know that scent." His mouth was glistening, as he ran his tongue over his fangs and growled: “Look at what we have here, Brothers.”

     “Life’s funny, isn’t it?” One of the others showed his fangs and she recognized him from the douchebag bar down the street.

     “Not really,” she smiled behind the mask and pulled Betty out of her boot. The blade glittered in the light above the bar’s backdoor. “Now, the sound your sister made when I pumped her full of dead man’s blood?” She chuckled, as the vamp tensed. “That was funny.” The vamp ran at her full speed, but she didn’t move until the last second. She stepped to the side and clotheslined him with Betty’s blade. The vamps body buckled, before it finally fell to the ground. She looked back at the two who were left.

     “You killed three of my kin tonight.”

     “Five.” She corrected.

     “I am going to enjoy tasting you slowly.”

     The fight wasn’t as fast as she had hoped. Her heart wasn’t in it, but Betty was a trooper. She took the leader’s head and didn’t break a sweat. The third vamp sat on the ground pumped full of dead man’s blood and groaning like he was going to die. She wiped Betty off on the leader’s shirt.

     “Taste me,” she muttered, “please.”

     She raised a hand above the bodies and the words floated out of her, causing the two bodies to turn to ash. One more incantation sent them into the wind. She picked the groaning vamp up, after dosing him again and walked him to her car. She looked toward the door to see the two strangers coming out of the bar and rushed to get the vamp in the backseat. She slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the space, catching the two men in her brake lights.

     “Shut it.”  She warned the vamp and sped home before the dose could wear off.

 


	3. Jack’s Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s come to town?

     Frankie parked her car in front of Joe’s Diner and cut the engine. She groaned, as the sunlight blared through the open window and found its way behind her sunglasses. There was only one empty spot between hers and the next car; a black Impala.  _’68_?  She gave it one more glance.  _’67_. 

  _Is that who I think it is?_   She thought and rubbed her eyes, as they lost focus for a moment.  She was running on four hours of sleep and needed coffee quickly. She checked the photos on her phone. “I know I have them in here somewhere,” she mumbled, but couldn’t find what she was looking for.  _Darren? Dean?_ Her mind flashed through conversations with her father. _It was Dean._   He had said that Dean was the oldest and the biggest troublemaker, but the other? _Scott? Samuel? Sam, I think_. She cursed herself for not paying attention more closely.

     Frankie got out of the car and made her way toward the door, travel mug in hand. She walked through the screen door and took a look at the regulars. Joey gave her a small wave and disappeared deeper into the kitchen. Alvin and Monie warmed their usual seats at the counter, but sitting at the table in the far corner of the small room, were the two strangers from the bar the night before. The tall one with the shaggy hair sat hunched over the newspaper in front of him. The other was practically inhaling the bacon on his plate. Both wore basic dark suits with ties. An uneasy feeling shot through her gut, as she walked up to the counter. She remembered the conversation about her tattoos with the taller one and realized he had recognized the wards. _Holy shit_ , she thought, _it's the friggin’ Winchesters._

     “Coffee, Frankie?” Patty asked from behind the counter, but Frankie couldn’t take her eyes off of them. “Frankie? Hello?” Patty’s hand caused her to zap back to reality. Patty smiled and lowered her voice. “About time we got some decent eye candy in here, right?”

     “What?” Frankie stammered.

     Patty laughed. “Coffee?”

     Frankie took the lid off of her mug. “Please.”

     Patty walked over with the pot to fill Frankie’s travel mug and Frankie popped the top on it when Patty was finished. “Need something to eat?”

     “Joey get any of Sarah’s pie?”

     Patty motioned to the corner table, with her head. “Sorry Sweets, but he took the last piece.”

     The clean cut one had just taken a huge bite and his eyes grew wide, as he tried to smile around the fork.  “Perfect.”  She breathed to herself, as she pulled a five dollar bill out and put it on the counter.

     “You need to get up earlier.” Joey said, as he walked out from the back with a paper bag in his hands.

     “Like she sleeps.” Alvin mumbled.

     “Thank you.” Frankie quipped, as she took the bag from Joey. “You may continue minding your own business, Al.” She watched as the Winchesters got up to leave the diner. They thanked Patty and the tall one gave Frankie a small smile as they left. She felt the bag and shook her head.  _My own fucked up version of takeout,_  she thought.

     Joey looked at her sadly. He motioned to the door and she followed him, after grabbing her coffee from the counter. He stopped in front of the screen door and she stood next to him. “You’re not in any trouble right?” He had lowered his voice, but still stared out the door. They had dated for a hot minute last year, thinking it feasible because they had been friends for so long. Of course proving to be mediocre at anything resembling a serious relationship, Frankie had called it off within three months. She could tell it had changed things between them and regretted ever trying.

     “Nothing more than usual.”

     “You heard about those kids?”

     “I did.”

     “I wish you would find back up.”

     She glanced out the screen door at the Winchesters. “I don’t need it.”

     He sighed and looked at her. “Promise me that one day,” he looked at the paper bag, “you will tell me you don’t need that stuff anymore, Frankie.”    

     She held her coffee and the folded part of the bag in her left hand and touched his face with her right. “Thanks.” She kissed his left cheek and walked out the door. _No promises._

     “Pretty sweet ride.” The taller one sat up against the Impala, while the other was near its trunk.

     “She’s no Impala, but she does the job.” Frankie said plainly and walked up to him. “You wouldn’t be following me, would you?”

     “What makes you think that?”

     “You must be staying at the Starlight, since it’s the only motel in town.” She motioned to the diner. “This is a bit out of the way for pie and a newspaper browse.”  The taller one looked younger than the other up close, so she figured he must be Sam, which left the other to be Dean. The two brothers exchanged a glance.

     “Honestly,” Dean started, “I’d travel pretty far for a good pie.”

     Frankie didn’t acknowledge him, but instead stared at Sam, since his face was softer and gave her more information. Dean was too guarded to give her anything.  “FBI?”

     “Agents Gilmour and Waters.” They both flashed their badges.

     She ran through what she had:  _two men, ’67 black Impala, impersonating officials with rockstar names_. “I’m here most mornings. Let me know if I can help you with anything,” she forced a smile, “agents.”

     “We will.” Sam nodded.

      Frankie floored her car out of its spot and down the road toward her house, feeling a tad territorial. _Like I don’t have enough on my plate, I’ve got the Winchesters to worry about._ “Let’s hope it’s not another apocalypse.” She sighed. “Who’s got time for that shit?”


	4. Hex Bags with a Side of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie never learned to be civil with guests.

    Frankie stood in the basement with the contents of Joey’s paper bag set out: dead man’s blood and various bones. As the local funeral director his sister Nancy prepared the bodies for burial, which meant she had easy access to dead man’s blood and the specific bones Frankie needed for hex bags. The bones Frankie usually collected on her own came from smaller animals like chickens or cats, but for some bags she needed the bones of children and those were harder to come by.

     Nancy had never been Frankie’s biggest fan, especially after she had found out what Frankie did for a “living”. However, she gained a willingness to keep Frankie stocked after Frankie took care of a werewolf near her son’s camp a couple of summers back. Simon was fourteen when he first showed up at her house, armed with a laptop and refusing to leave until Frankie admitted she could use his help.  _If only Nancy knew what he’s hacked under my roof,_  Frankie thought.

_And then there’s Jenny……._

     Frankie charred each bone, reciting a cleansing incantation she had written herself. In hopes the child or animal had found its peaceful rest, she spoke the words in silence. When she was finished, she hit play on her laptop causing the wireless speakers in the corners to come alive.  She prepared each hex bag, set them in the warded box and back on the shelf. Next, she prepared the darts and syringes of dead man’s blood.

     The vampire she had brought back last night (and already killed) had cracked quickly. He told her that the nest was under the Uptown. She groaned just thinking about having to go in. The bar was trendy; filled with douchebags fresh out of law school. The watered down drinks were over priced and the company was shit. Frankie had only been in there twice and one of those times was by accident. She knew the vamp wasn’t lying because she remembered that she recognized one of them from there. “The friggin’ Uptown,” she muttered.

     A buzzer sound drowned out the music for a moment, as the doorbell upstairs was pushed. Frankie clicked the app on her laptop, which activated the camera on the front door.  _The Winchesters_. She took off her gloves and apron and walked up the stairs, closing the door behind her. She waved a hand over the bunker door causing the wards to flash green for a moment and then fade away.

     She opened the front door and squinted at the sunlight as it flooded the foyer. “Agents.”

     Sam smiled. “Francina Grey?”

     She winced. “Frankie will do, thanks.”

     “We got your name from the bartender at Willie’s. He said you might be able to answer some questions for us?” Dean smiled.

      _From Jack? Not a chance.  You've been researching me._  Frankie opened the door wide. “Come on in.”

     “Thank you.” Sam said, as they both followed her into the living room.

     “Word of advice,” she started walking over to the small bar in the corner, “I wouldn’t touch anything.” She poured herself a whiskey. “There’s a least twenty things in this room that will kill you.”

     “Quite the collection.” Sam remarked.

     Frankie held up the tumbler. “Drink?”

     “We’re on duty, but thank you.”

     “Right.” Frankie took a swig. “Agents Gilmour and Waters.” The two exchanged a small glance. “You had questions?”

     “We are following up on the unsolved murders happening around town.”

     “Possible animal attacks.” Dean stated.

     Frankie suddenly felt exhausted and sighed. “Could we just cut the shit? I’ve had a super long week.”

     “Sorry?”

     She looked toward the ceiling. “If you’re going to come in here, do it. Don’t just stand at the top of the stairs listening.” There was the sound of bare feet on the stairs and small squeaky noises that only young people could make. Simon and Jenny showed themselves in the doorway of the front room.

     “Holy shit.” Jenny put a hand to her mouth.

     “Is it really them?” Simon asked. “Does this mean,” he lowered his voice and whispered to Frankie, “another apocalypse?”

     “What?” Dean asked.

     “If I were to pop the trunk on that pretty Impala of yours, I’d bet a million dollars she’s holding an impressive arsenal in there. That plus the thrift shop suits, fake badges, and alias’ named after rockstars make you,” she paused, “the Winchesters.” The two kids squeaked again, as Frankie poured two more tumblers and walked them over to the brothers. “I’ve heard how you work and we all know we’re dealing with vampires.”

     “Who are you again?” Dean asked, as he took the tumbler aware that he had been made. “I mean, have we met before?”

     “No.” Frankie said flat. “This is Simon and Jenny. They help me with,” she hesitated as the two kids glanced at her, “research.”

     “Hey.” The two said in unison.

     Frankie took another swig, finishing the liquid. “I had a vamp tied up in my basement last night. I snatched him outside Willie's and interrogated him for at least four hours.”

     “So, you’re a hunter?” Sam asked.

     “Sure.”  Frankie shrugged.  _Hunter, witch; whatever_.  “Look, I found out where the nest is, so you two can scuttle off to start the next apocalypse or whatever catastrophe you plan on releasing in hopes of saving each other.”

     “From death.” Jenny added.

     “Again.” Simon breathed.

     “What?” Sam actually looked hurt.  _Look at those puppy eyes. They must come in handy,_  Frankie thought.

     “We stopped that apocalypse, by the way.” Dean half shouted to the room. “You’re friggin’ welcome.”

     “We’re supposed to thank you?  For what?”  Frankie laughed.  “For stopping an apocalypse that you started?”  Dean opened his mouth to retort, but she didn’t give him the chance.  “You are not out there saving the world, Winchester,” she took a few steps closer, “you are cleaning up your own god damn messes.”

     “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Sam set his glass down on the table. “We never intend to hurt anyone.”

     “It’s not just me.” She set her own glass down. “While you’re off playing heroes, other hunters are doing the job and with little to no damage to the outside world.” The brothers stood there for a moment. “I believe you don’t intend for this stuff to happen and I understand the pull of family, I do—“

     “Do you?” Dean’s face was hard. Frankie already knew his brother was his weakness and her father had told her about their past. “Do you really understand what it means to do anything for your family? For your blood?”

     “Those two things are not the same,” Frankie whispered, “and I know more than most how you must learn from mistakes made. Do you?”

     Dean threw the whiskey back and set the glass on the table, hard. “Look Sweetheart,” he started, “you want to do this all on your own? No skin off our backs.”

     “Dean—“ Sam started to reason with his brother.

     “I’m glad you understand.” Frankie looked at Dean for a moment and then walked over to her front door, opened it and motioned to the outside. “I wish you luck, wherever you go next.”

     The Winchesters left silently and she closed the door behind them.

     “I’ve got dibs on the sexy one.” Jenny sighed.

     “Are you serious?” Frankie spat. “He’s an idiot.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you hear him bring up the apocalypse like it would give him brownie points?”

     Jenny bit her lip. “I was actually talking about Sam, you know the taller one.” She tried to stifle a laugh. “Um, who were you—“

     “Shut up.” Frankie said and Jenny laughed ran back up the stairs, but Simon looked worried. “What is it?”

     “Maybe you should’ve asked them for help?” Frankie started to argue, but Simon held up his hands. “I know they mess up a lot of crap, Frankie,” he shrugged, “but what if this nest is too big? The surveillance footage I am getting is crazy.”  Frankie didn’t answer him and instead went back downstairs. “C’mon Frankie.” She closed the door behind her, so she never saw Simon leave the house.


	5. Bert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only a friend can call you an ass.

     Frankie stared at her cell phone on the small table next to her, a coffee mug in hand. She sat on the porch of her house, her dog Kuri sitting at her feet, watching the sky bleed red and orange as the sun set. Frankie noticed she was rocking the chair in beat to Kuri’s tail thumping on the hollow porch and smiled. She reached down and rubbed the dog’s head, receiving a faster thump for it.      

     Feeling horrible about her first meeting with the Winchesters, she felt like she needed advice now more than ever. She slowly sipped the hot coffee and looked out toward the road. “I stepped in it this time, Girl.” Kuri whined in agreement. “Me and my stellar people skills.”

     She picked the phone up off the table and the line rang for two clicks.

     “Yeah?”

     “Bert?”

The most loyal friend her father ever had.  When Frankie was fourteen, her father went missing and it was Bert who had helped her learn more about hunting. He would bring her new weapons and tell her how to kill certain monsters. If it wasn’t for Bert and Jack, Frankie would’ve never made it through.   Frankie was fifteen when Bert took her on her first hunt, but now he was fighting a monster known as cancer and it was kicking his ass.

     Bert hesitated. “Frankie?”

     “Yeah, it’s me.” Frankie smiled into the receiver. “How are you?”

     “What’s wrong?”

     “What?”

     “Girl, you wouldn’t be calling me unless something had happened.” He was quiet for a minute. “Is Jenny alright?”

     “We’re both fine, Bert.” Frankie reassured. “Listen, I need to ask you something.”

     “Shoot.”

     “What do you know about the Winchesters? The brothers, I mean?”

     “What do you want with them?”

     “They came here for the vamps I’m already hunting.”

     Bert laughed, causing him to cough a bit. “And I’ll bet you were your normal gracious self.”

     Frankie clicked her tongue. “I was an asshole, yes.”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Look, all I know is what Dad told me and I don’t even remember most of it. I’m not even sure I should believe what he said since it was after….” Frankie’s voice trailed off.

     “Sweets?” He’s called her that ever since she’s known him. She had asked him why once and his reply?  _“Because you’re not.”_

     “Anything you could tell me would be great, Bert.”

     “Bobby Singer swore by them. Said they were a couple of damn good hunters.” Bert cleared his throat and she could hear his oxygen machine in the background, as he took a deep breath inside of the mask. “Of course, he was like a second father to them, so that old codger could’ve been biased.”

     “What about all of the stuff they’ve unleashed? All to save each other?” Frankie switched the phone to her other ear. “Other hunters—“

     “Hang those other assholes.” Another long inhale, followed by a cough. “Those boys have seen a lot of loss and were alone for a long time, Frankie. Aside from Bobby, they didn’t have anybody else and now he’s gone, too.” Another inhale from the mask. “You of all people should know what that’s like.”

     “Christ on a cracker, Bert.”

     “Well?”

     Frankie sighed. “Yeah. I got it.” She thanked Bert and promised to come visit soon. She had an apology to make and she knew right where to go.


	6. Starlight Starbright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A face from Frankie’s past.

      Frankie walked through the Starlight’s door and headed toward the front desk.  A biker couple sat on the couch, watching tv.  Frankie wasn't sure if they were checking in or just hanging out.

      “Frankie.”  

     Jon’s father-in-law owned the Starlight and it was a huge hit to Jon’s ego when he was pushed to work the front desk.  When his wife wasn't belittling him in public, Shelly sat at home watching shows like _Hoarders_ and _Storage Wars_ and eating ice cream like the world’s supply was coming to a halt.

     “Hey.”  Frankie walked up to the counter and tapped it, playfully. “You got a couple of FBI agents staying here?  I just need the room number.”

     “You know I can’t do that.”  Jon barely looked up from his comic.

     “I’m not here to make trouble, Jon.”

     “No way.”

     “Don’t make me knock on every door until I find them.”

     “And don’t make me call the Sheriff.”  Jon smirked.  “We both know how much of a fan he is.”

     Frankie leaned across the counter and lowered her voice:  “Does Shelly know what you do after work?”  Her eyes narrowed.  “Exactly how much of her daddy’s money have you stuffed in Amber’s g-string, Jon?”

     Jon groaned.  “How do you even know that?”

    “I know everything.”  Frankie straightened up.  “Number?”

    “They’re in twelve,” he pointed a finger at her, “but if you get caught, it’s your ass not mine.”

     She walked across the parking lot and stopped in front of twelve.  She hesitated a moment, when she thought she heard a woman’s voice.  _Maybe someone’s getting lucky?_ “I’ll only be a minute.”  She whispered to herself, as she knocked on the door.

     It was Sam who opened the door.  “Oh.”

     “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see after what I said earlier, but I just wanted to apologize….” her voice trailed off, as she looked past Sam into the room.  It has been almost thirty years, but she would never forget his face.  She pushed past Sam and stared at the demon cold. 

     “Francina.”  His voice made her breath catch and was just as she had remembered; cold and slick.

     Her eyes scanned the floor and the ceiling. She looked to his left and could feel the power radiating off the red-head.  Turning on Sam, she asked:  “Why isn’t he trapped?”

     “Well, um…” Sam tried to stammer out an excuse, while the laptop on the nearby table caught her eye.  On the screen was a shot of her driver’s license and a couple of articles regarding her father’s disappearance. 

     She pointed to the laptop.  “You’re researching me?”

     “We needed to know if you were a good egg.”  Dean shut the laptop.

     “Are you serious?”  Frankie’s eyes widened.  “You’re having a motel party with a demon and a dark witch and you want to make sure _I’m_ a fucking good egg? _”_ She pointed to the guy in the trench coat.  “What’s with the angel?  Is he supposed to cancel those two out or something?”

     “You know he's an angel?”  Dean asked.

     “I said so, didn’t I?”

     “How?”  The angel moved forward a few steps.

     “Who gives a shit?”

     “Same beautiful temper.” The demon’s face lit up. "That’s the Francina I remember.”

     “I wouldn’t tempt her.”  The redhead warned in a thick Irish accent which was a bit old and weathered.  She seemed younger than her voice projected, which made Frankie wonder how many times the witch had died.  “She has tremendous power."

     “I am quite aware of what she has.”  He stepped a little closer.  “I tried to get my hands on it for years.”  He smiled at Frankie.  “You did a wonderful job of hiding from me, Francina.”

     “Do you blame me?”   She practically spat the question.  “You were kind of a pain in the ass.”

     The witch chuckled.  “She does know you, Fergus.”

     “How do you know each other?”  Sam asked.

     “We’re not the BFFs you seem to be.” Frankie said over her shoulder. “I’ve just had the misfortune of sharing the same space once or twice.”

     “I still don’t understand how you knew I was an angel.”

     “Your grace.”  Frankie didn’t take her eyes from the demon.  “It shines like a friggin’ beacon and smells like lilac.” 

     The angel was about to ask another question, but the demon cut him off.  “I am very glad you showed up here tonight.  If you’re anything like your mother—“  And the demon began to gag.

     Frankie projected the words for an exorcism from her mind and into Crowley’s.  She had only done it once before and it took all she had.  Right now though, her anger was fueling it and it was a walk in the park.

     “I believe she is exorcising him.”  The witch said flatly.  

     Frankie felt two fingers on her forehead and it all went black.


	7. Angels, Witches, Demons, (Oh My)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakey, Wakey, Miss Frankie.

      Frankie felt the shackles on her wrists first; cold and unforgiving steel.  Her head was the second pain to manifest.  It felt like someone was trying to pull her brain out through her ear and she felt so weak.  _The shackles are warded against your magic._

      The first one she saw was the angel.  “I’m sorry I had to do that.”

      “Had to?”  Frankie groaned.  “What did you do, anyway?  My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

      “I can help you with that.”  He reached a hand out and Frankie dodged it.

      “No!”  She cried.  “I’d prefer the pain over you touching me again.”

      The angel looked confused and walked away, as Dean walked up to her.  “You gonna play nice?”

      “I’m tied to a fucking chair, Winchester.”  Her brow furrowed.  “Do I have a choice?”

      “I’m gonna make it short and sweet.”  He pointed to the demon.  “You know Crowley—“

      “King of Hell now.”  Crowley added.

      “And a complete asshole,”  Dean rolled his eyes, “but sometimes he plays for the good side.”  He pointed to the witch.  “Rowena who is also good—“

      “For now.”  Sam added.

      “And the walking roofie?”  Frankie motioned with her head toward the angel.

      “Castiel.”  Sam explained.

      “We know you need help with the vamps, Sweetheart.”  Dean leaned in to look her in the eye.  “So, you can drop the act.”

      “Dean, we promised.”  Sam warned.

      “No, you promised.”  Dean retorted.

        “What the hell are you two talking about?”  Frankie asked, trying to forget how nice Dean smelled. It was a mix of sandalwood and leather, with a hint of cinnamon and apple.  _It’s just been awhile Frankie,_ she thought. _Cool your tits, girl._

      “Your little friend.”  Dean snapped his fingers trying to remember the name.  “The boy?”

      “Simon?”

      “Simon!”  Dean smiled.  “He stopped us before we left your driveway and told us everything.”

      Frankie could feel her face grow flush.  “That little shit.”

      “He was worried for you.”  Sam explained further.  “He asked that we didn’t say anything because you might get angry.”

      “Looking at you now,”  Dean added, “I’d say the kid knows you pretty well.”

      “I’ll kill him later.”  She rattled her hands behind her.  “How long are you keeping me like this?”

      “Until you no longer want to see me dead.”  Crowley quipped.

      “Forever then?”

      “I could wait.”  Crowley raised an eyebrow.  “Could you?”  He held up his hands.  “I shouldn’t have brought up your mother.  That was poor taste.”

      “She made her bed.”  Frankie adverted her eyes to the floor, lowering her voice.  “It was all your little visits.”

      Crowley was quiet for a moment, causing Frankie to look up, wondering why.  “And I am truly sorry for those.”  And a moment later, he was gone.

      The room was quiet.

      “Did he just apologize?”  Frankie whispered.  “Did I fall and hit my head at some point?”

      “My son, the humanist.”  Rowena adjusted her sleeves.

      “He’s your son?”  Rowena started to answer.  “No!  Nevermind.  I don’t want to know nor do I really care.”

      “Dean, I should go.”  Castiel’s voice was gruff and his eyes peered.  Dean nodded.

      “Could you drop me off somewhere?”  Rowena’s question was practically slick with syrup, it was so sweet.  “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

      “Wait.”  Frankie said, catching Castiel’s attention.  “Sorry for the _walking roofie_ thing.”

      Castiel nodded with a small smile, put his hands on both of Rowena’s arms and moments later they were gone also.

      “I need a drink.”  Frankie breathed, still looking at the empty space the two had occupied just moments before.

      “It’s a lot to take in.”  Sam walked over to unlock the shackles.  “You did barge in here though, so it’s kinda on you.”

      “Sure. I’ll claim it.”  Frankie rubbed her wrists when they were finally free.  She stood up and grabbed the chair for balance because her head swam a bit.

      Dean grabbed her arm, lightly.  “It’s the angel knock out.”

      “I’m okay, thanks.”  She headed for the door. 

      “What about the nest?”  Sam asked.

      “I don’t talk business on an empty liver, Friend.”  She motioned with her head to the door.  “Coming?”

      “You buying?”  Dean joked.

      “You knock me out, tie me to a chair, and then make me pay for my own drink?”  Frankie smirked and turned to leave.  “Pretty savage, Winchester.”


End file.
